


Origin

by aries_taurus



Series: Indulgence [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Binging, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Emetophilia, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Purging, Teen Sex, Underage Drinking, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/pseuds/aries_taurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second installment of the Indulgence series.</p><p>Prologue: how Steve came to be what he is, how the urges came to life.</p><p>Please read notes before reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origin

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of how Steve came to associate purging with comfort and, later, pleasure and binging and purging and control and self-reward. It's about childhood memories and adolecent trauma and how it all twisted in Steve's mind to make him the way he is in Indulgence.
> 
> It's graphic but I think it's done realistically and respectfully.
> 
> It touches on Steve's first sexual experiences as a teen with another teenage girl and I think it's not inapropriate. Let me know if you think it is.
> 
> There's a lot of research into this fic, believe it or not. My step mother is a psychologist and we had a conversation about how paraphilia, ie sexual arousal tied to inapropriate objects or images, can develop, and it got me thinking about that request to have a fic with a bulimic Steve and how realistically, it could come to be. I also did a lot of reading on male eating disorders and somehow, Steve fits the criteria so well... 
> 
> So. This is what I came up with.
> 
> I don't know if I'll write more between this prologue and Indulgence, or a sequel or anything at all. Time will tell.
> 
> Lastly, I tried to fit the years into canon timeline with Steve's age as best I could. 
> 
> Oh and, unbeta'd. Let me know if I goofed.

* * *

 

 

1981

 

He sat on her lap, curled over her arm as she rubbed his back, whispering gently in his ear.

“It's okay, baby, Mommy’s here. It's okay.”

He mewled, pathetic and scared. His tummy was hurting so bad…

“Shhh. Just let it come. It's okay.”

Something inside went wrong and he felt even ickier and he was drooling a lot, like the baby. It hurt deep in his tummy, like it was going to burst.

“Mommy…” he moaned, tears in his eyes.

“It's okay baby. You’ll feel better after, I promise.”

She settled him securely on her lap and rubbed his back up and down, up and down, but her arm in front was pressing on his tummy and, and…

It was hot and it tasted really bad and it just came out of him in a stream that splashed on the sand in front of the chair.

He cried and hiccuped and it happened again.

“Shh, shhh, it's all right baby, let it come. You’ll feel better after.”

“Make it stop,” he cried, scared. He felt it coming again, his throat all weird and his stomach hurting bad, so bad.

“Let it out, baby, let it all out and it’ll stop. You’ll feel so much better after, I promise.”

Something in his belly grumbled and it felt like a giant hand was shoving it all up and he made this strange sound and it all exploded in his mouth and out of him.

It happened again and again and again and he still felt like it might happen one more time as he stayed there, curled over his Mommy’s arm, the disgusting-tasting goo, stuck to his bottom lip and some hanging from his nose.

“Breathe, baby, slow and deep. See? It's over.”

He did and something magic happened. The pain in his belly went away and he felt better. Good even.

His Mommy kept rubbing his back a little, made him spit like when he brushed his teeth and gave him a bit of water.

“I made a mess, Mommy,” he said, looking at the strange puddle on the sand.

“It's okay. The sea will wash it away. Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Throwing up isn’t fun but it's not something you need to be afraid of and you always feel better after.”

“What’s throwing up?”

Mommy explained about where the food goes when you ate and that your stomach knew if you ate something bad and it made you throw up and what came out was the food you ate before. He asked lots and lots of questions; why did the food taste bad then? Why did it look weird? He asked questions until he started to feel funny and his tummy started to hurt again.

“Mommy?”

“Yes honey?”

“My tummy feels funny again.”

Just then, his tummy did kind of a flip and he burped and there was a little throw-up that came with it. He didn’t mean to but it flew out of his mouth and spilled down the front his batman pajama shirt.

“It's okay, baby, just let it come like before,” she said, leaning him forward over her arm again. She rubbed his back and he tried to let it happen but it hurt and it tasted really bad and…

It happened but nothing came up, just a big sorta hiccup that hurt.

“It's okay, baby, it's okay,” Mommy reassured and she was right before so he didn’t cry even if it hurt. There was a lot of spit in his mouth so he swallowed but it went wrong and he did a huge hiccup and he burped and everything just smushed inside and it happened again, with the throw-up coming out in a big splash that went all over the sand. He coughed and his eyes cried and he couldn’t really breathe before more throw-up came out.

He didn’t like it. It hurt. He cried.

“Shh, baby, shhh, it's almost over.”

He cried because he could feel it coming again. He sort of half fell forward over Mommy’s arm and he did a big burp and a really big splash of throw-up came out and it was like magic again, like Mommy said. He felt all better.

He coughed and sneezed because there was throw-up in his nose. Mommy made him spit  and gave him some water and she rocked him against her chest until he got sleepy.

She took him inside and put him into her big bed and she changed his Batman shirt that was dirty for the GI Joe pj’s. She took a warm little towel like in the bath and washed his face. It felt good. She gave him a sippy cup with water in it, even if he was too big for a sippy cup now. Those were for babies and he was five. He hadn’t been a baby since he was three and a half.

He liked it here, in the big warm bed, next to Mommy. Daddy wasn’t there because he was busy being a policeman. Mary-baby was with Mrs. Hamoa so he had Mommy to himself again and he liked that. She rubbed his back and combed his hair with her red nails.

“You feeling better, baby?”

“Yes Mommy.”

“Go to sleep, baby. Okay? Just tell Mommy if your stomach feels funny again. We’ll go sit by the water till you feel better.”

“Hmm.”

He snuggled against her and went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

1984

 

“Mom?”

“Yes honey?”

“My stomach feels funny.”

She paused and looked at him. “You feel sick?”

He shrugged. He didn’t really know. He knew he was sick once, when he was little, just before kindergarten. He wasn’t a baby anymore but…”

“Dunno.”

She shook her head. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s go home.”

He was eight. He was a big boy now. He didn’t really need his mom anymore but… They walked to the car and he wished the swap meet wasn’t so big because he was tired and it was really hot. He’d drank four lemonades with his lunch but he’d been so thirsty…

He sat in the back, slumped against the window and his stomach started to hurt. He groaned a little, not loud enough for his mom to hear but… He wasn’t feeling good at all. The car turned into their neighborhood and all the swerving and turning was making him dizzy and sweaty.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, his mouth was full of spit and his throat felt thick, like he’d swallowed wrong and something was stuck there.

His mom opened the door and helped him out and he just wanted to lie down.

“C’mon. We’ll sit by the water. You’ll feel better.”

She helped him sit into the old wood chair, right by the water, in the shade. He swallowed but he kinda hiccupped and he felt really weird. Sick.

“How you doin’ kiddo?”

“I think I’m gonna barf,” he said because he was pretty sure that’s what was about to happen.

“It’s okay.”

“Jenny… She barfed in class yesterday. Was gross.” He swallowed. Hiccupped.

“It’s not fun but you always feel better after, trust me, kiddo.”

He didn’t answer. He wanted to swallow the spit in his mouth but he couldn’t; it was like he couldn’t make his throat work right.

His stomach did some weird twist and he lurched forward. He felt really, really horrible and he made a sort of choking sound and it was like everything in his belly was crushed and his gut sucked inward on its own.

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay,” his mom said, rubbing his back.

He burped real loud and he barfed. A lot. It kinda tasted like lemonade but it was gross and it hurt. He. Didn’t like it. At all.

He wanted to be quiet; he wasn't a baby, but he couldn’t help it.

“Mom…”

She was just beside the chair and she kept rubbing his back. “It’s okay baby. Let it out.”

He moaned and he heard his insides gurgle and he barfed again.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ll feel better.”

It happened three more times before it stopped and everything suddenly felt better.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” He felt good, now. Warm inside.

“You done?”

He thought about it. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Rest a bit, just breathe.”

He spat and stayed like that for a minute or two.

“Feeling okay? Better?”

“Yeah. Fine now.”

“Okay. You need to rest. Come on. You can sleep on the sofa.”

 

* * *

 

1992

 

He came home from school dizzy and stumbling, glad Mary was off to some friend’s house. She was a little kid and she was a tattle.

He knew what was wrong. He shouldn’t have done it but Eddie had dared him and the school fair was only one day. So he’d done it; candy corn and cotton candy and hot dogs and candy apples and soda and… It was just one beer.  Okay, fine. Two.

He hiccupped and burped but he felt really sick, like he was gonna puke.

So he headed out to the beach and dragged the chair by the water’s edge.

He was fifteen, coming on sixteen. He didn’t need his mom there anymore. Not that she’d pay attention; not anymore. She was too busy and his dad was never there, didn’t care.

It didn’t take long before he started to puke. It stank of beer and he was glad he was outside and that the waves were washing it all away.

“You okay Stevie?”

Kaitlin.  Eddie’s sister. She was seventeen, a senior, and she was really hot. Brunette, tall. Pretty.

“I’m… fine.” He wasn’t. Not yet. He burped wetly and puked, embarrassed, this time.

Kaitlin didn’t say anything. She just rubbed his back.

“Shit,” he cursed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She kept rubbing his back. He puked again, three, maybe four times, tasting beer and cotton candy and bile.

She didn’t move, kept rubbing his back.

He felt better.

He spat, wiped his mouth. He stayed still.

He was getting hard.

Her hand slipped over his ribs, lower, onto his abdomen.

“I know how to make you feel better,” she whispered in his ear. “Come on.”

She dragged him to his bedroom and he got his very first blowjob, the taste of vomit in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

She was dead. Gone.

Never coming home.

It hurt.

It hurt so bad and he didn’t know how to make it stop.

He didn’t know how to deal with this.

He just… He didn’t want to feel like this anymore.

He just wanted to feel… normal. Good. Last week, his only care in the world was not getting caught after getting sick on two beers and too much junk at the fair and getting Kaitlin to maybe have sex with him for the first time.

Now, his mom was dead, his dad was sending him away and he couldn’t bear the pain.

He just wanted to stop feeling like this. He wanted to feel better.

Girls said chocolate made you feel better. So he ate some.

It didn’t work, so he ate more. Maybe the huge hole he felt inside was just hunger.

The more he ate, the more he felt the giant hole inside him and maybe if he ate more, he could fill it up.

Maybe it would make him feel better.

He raided the fridge and tore through the leftovers from the wake because there was nothing else in there. His dad was… he didn’t want to think about it. Mary was already gone and he was leaving tomorrow.

He ate and ate and ate until it hurt.

He felt like crying because on top of it all now, he felt sick and his stomach hurt.

He went to the sink and drank from the tap. Maybe some water would settle his stomach but instead, it made him nauseous.

He looked out the window and he saw it, by the water, where he left it a week ago.

The chair.

_“It’s okay baby, you’ll feel better after, I promise.”_

He sat in the dark, alone, at the water’s edge, so full of pain he couldn’t bear it; had to do _something._

He knew what to do. Heard enough cheerleaders talk about sticking their fingers down their throats to make themselves puke so they’d stay skinny.

This wasn’t about that.

Nothing else had made the pain go away. He had to try.

He put his fingers in his mouth and pushed them as far as he could. He choked and gagged but it didn’t really work.

He tried again. Harder.

This time, it worked. It hurt.

It fucking hurt and he maybe cried in between the puke and snot.

Still, he did it again, until there was nothing left in him.

And then, when it finally stopped, it was like that magic all over again.

He felt better.

He stood on shaky legs and went back inside, letting the tide wash away his pain.

 

TBC?? I dunno.

**Author's Note:**

> So, how was it? 
> 
> Feedback, even negative, is most welcome but please, be kind either way. I can accept criticism, but I have little tolerance for meanness.


End file.
